Khisondhanna
by Seldavia
Summary: The story of why Carmen left Acme and the people she left behind, as well as the new ones she wishes to protect. Originally posted on Geocities in the late 1990s.
1. Prologue

A/N: This is a repost of an old story put up by request. I will post the chapters I have over time. This story is unfinished, and I don't intend to finish it. There are a lot of made-up words in this story, and I'll see if I can find the glossary for them.

From a safe distance Carmen watched the _Passangue_ Juniors play at their game of soccer. How strange, she thought. How strange that there were only now people her own age working at Acme. How strange that they had only come after she had been exiled.

Wait a minute. Her own age?

They were not the same age she was; they were all near the same age she had been before she left home. So how old was she now? How long had she been... _Idhanna_ , an Exile? Her uncertainty disturbed her and she stopped watching them to figure it out. How long had it been? She tried to remember, and got a jumble of disconnected memories of museums, pursuits, plans, and frantic travels. She realized uneasily that she had paid little attention to the passing years as she focused on her excursions. What was today's date? She frowned, unsettled that she had not even paid attention to such a thing as that. The twelfth. Wasn't it the twelfth? Or maybe the eleventh. Of April. She was sure it was April. Of ninety-six. She remembered that. But when had she left home?

"You've been away for ten years, three months, and seven days."

She remembered the computer's words with a shock. Ten years! Had it really been that long? Had she really been exiled for ten years? Had she really been...a _criminal._..for that long? She had been eighteen when she left, she remembered. Eighteen plus ten was twenty-eight. She was twenty-eight years, almost thirty years old! Where had her life gone?

Wait. She was still older than that. She'd had a birthday recently, after she'd heard the computer message. She'd included it in one of her...excursions, because she wanted someone to notice. Twenty-nine!

And someone had noticed; four of the Juniors, anyway. Carmen started watching the Juniors once more as they ran across the field; some of them she liked better than others. She liked the girls from Russia and Brazil; they did their work well and didn't try to make her feel like a fool. The boy from Venezuela she did not like; nor did she like the Hopi boy. Why? She wasn't sure; she pondered over this for a short while as she watched them. They made her feel...uneasy. Wary. They were too enthusiastic; they enjoyed the chase too much. She could see the ambition in their eyes, desire to chase her down and lock her away, in some dark place where she would never see the sun again. To them she was something to be captured and conquered-for fun.

The blonde boy from San Francisco thought this way too; but she liked him. She wasn't sure why. It was almost as if he reminded her of someone, someone she once knew, someone she knew from before she left home...

Rodger! Zack reminded her of Rodger. When she realized this she was filled with sadness; she had forgotten how much she missed Rodger. The boy really was so much like Rodger; not only because he got along so well with _Daieslenna_ (or the Chief, rather... _Passangue_ called him Chief now); but because he really was so close to what Rodger was like. The way he spoke, listened to loud music, took nothing seriously and just went along for the ride, enjoying every minute of it. These were probably not the best qualities for a Junior; but Rodger was like that, and she liked Rodger.

But Zack's sister, Ivy, she liked still more. Ivy worked hard, loved the work she did, and did everything well. She was smart and pretty and strong and had a lot of stamina. With a shock Carmen realized that she was comparing the girl to herself; or rather, herself as she had been before she had left home. Was that why she liked her so much? Carmen had to admit that she felt some kind of connection to the girl. She showed off for Ivy's benefit, even though that usually just made the short-tempered Junior mad. She often would stop running and speak to Ivy, as if Ivy would care about anything she had to say; but in reality Carmen knew that if she got close enough she would jail her, just like any other of the Juniors.

With a helpless sense of fear and regret, Carmen realized that she was lonely. Lonely for another human being to talk to. Lonely for someone to treat her as a human being. But in the grave she had dug for herself she was not just lonely-she was utterly alone, a condemned Exile on a planet of five billion people. Head down and eyes shut, she walked slowly away from the happily playing Juniors and wondered if she could ever be truly human again.

She might have gone on like this, and for who knew how long, but even then she had a sense that something was about to break. An old friend with an urgent mission had been hunting for her for the past few weeks, someone who held the key to the changes of many different lives. By the time he finally found her, he had very little time to lose, but he would have used his forward, cajoling manner even if he wanted to ask the time of day. For years afterward she remembered how his voice broke through through the fog and she awakened again, the very walls of the buildings of that small Northern California city becoming clearer as she began to remember.

He had been watching her as she stood outside the park fence, and followed her as she wandered no-matter-where downtown. As the garish streetlights became dimmer and the roads became narrower, he stepped up to her and broke through her barrier with a laugh.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Bright Eyes." She whirled round, eyes wide, and staggered back. "Relax, shortstuff; you look like you've seen a ghost. Oh, I guess you're not so short now, must be those shoes. By the way, love your outfit; you do have an eye for color. Red is not it." The person speaking was Rodger.

"Rodger!" she managed to say. "Is it really you?" She stared at him in disbelief, and stretched out her hand as if to touch him and make sure he was real. He still looked like the same old Rodger who she'd known from the Agency, whose appearance mimicked that of _Daieslenna_ 's, the creation Rodger had been most proud of. He laughed and put an arm around her shoulder. "Well, if I wasn't me, then who would I be?" They both laughed at this. "Always could make you laugh, Bright Eyes."

"I still can't believe you're really here!" she exclaimed breathlessly, wondering if she was dreaming this. She touched his shoulder, confirming that her old friend was really there. "We all thought you were..."

"Gone? Not good old Rodger. I'm like an old joke...you keep hearing it again and again and again."

"I'm so glad to see you!" she exclaimed happily. "I never thought I'd see you again. It's like you're back from the dead..."

"Been a while, hasn't it?" he asked. "How are things over in old Frisco?"

Carmen's smile disappeared. "You...you mean you don't know?"

"Nope!" he answered. "Been a bit out of the world situation for quite a while now. Why? The other Seniors still tease you about your age?"

She looked at the ground. "Rodger...this may come as a shock to you...but I don't work at the Agency anymore."

He looked surprised. "What would you rather be doing?"

She stepped away from him and shook his arm from her shoulder. "It's hard to explain, but I...I..." she was suddenly more ashamed than ever. How could she tell one of her best friends what she had done?

Rodger grinned knowingly. "You would rather be stealing buildings."

She stared at him, then shouted angrily, "Rodger! You mean you knew all along?"

He kept grinning. "You forget how much fun it is for me to tease you."

Carmen was speechless. She seemed angry, but was also both surprised and relieved to see that Rodger didn't seem think any less of her. She folded her arms. "Well, since you seem to know all about me, why don't you tell me what you've been doing for the past ten years?"

"Quite simple," he said, putting his arm round her shoulder once more. "After the Case of the Crystal Chandelier, I hid out with the computer nerds in the US military. You know, secret identity, odd lodgings, all that hush-hush stuff. It was fun, actually, playing with all those big-deal computers. Of course, all the people who work in that area don't know how to have fun. Real stiff pocket-protector nerds with the taped glasses. And everything we did was top secret, which meant I couldn't show off to anybody..."

"I can see where that would be a problem," she interrupted, grinning.

"Girl, do you know me!" he said. "But anyway, all that confidential stuff was just junk anyway. You know, the usual foreign conspiracies, Ialiens./I..Once we had some college kid try to break into the system. But he couldn't compete with Rodger's Great Wall of China!" Rodger concluded triumphantly. "That reminds me. Who's running Acme's system while I'm gone?"

She rolled her eyes. "You don't want to know."

He looked concerned. "Is it really that bad?"

"Look at it this way," she said. "The kid's only fourteen..."

He stared. "Kid? Fourteen?"

"Yes, fourteen. And he's made some changes..."

He looked shocked. "Changes? What kind of changes?"

She looked at him. "Well, I don't know completely. I only looked at the system once because I'm not exactly welcome there anymore. I think he..." She searched for the terminology. "He connected the satellite system directly to the mainframe, and..."

He slapped his hand to his head, cutting her off. "That's terrible! When you were in there, did you fix it?"

"No..."

"What did you do?"

She shrugged. "I guess I messed it up more."

He looked stricken. "Bright Eyes!"

She shrugged again. "Sorry, Rodger."

He shook his head, and said with mock anger, "Lady, I don't know what I'm going to do with you. You just get into everything. Can't take my eyes off you for a second."

Carmen was pleased. If he was teasing her that meant that her change in lifestyle hadn't seemed to affect him; they were still friends. The thought was very comforting to her. "Rodger," she said, changing the subject, "why are you just looking me up now? Why in the name of San Francisco Bay didn't you do it before?"

Rodger became quite serious, which was rare. "Actually, I looked you up to talk to you about that. When I worked with the military I found something very disturbing."

Curious, she asked, "What was that?"

He looked round, as if the buildings might have ears, then stopped walking and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Murgoes." he said. "The Murgoes are back. They are searching for those who are left from the Case of the Crystal Chandelier."

Carmen gasped. "Are you sure?" she asked in a whisper.

"Well, no, not completely." he answered, then winked at her. "Actually, that's where you come in."

"Me!" she cried.

"Shhhh!" Rodger urged.

"Let me make one thing very clear to you, Rodger," she said in a low growl. "Nothing can make me face those Murgoes again. INothing/I."

"Listen, I know something terrible happened to you ten years ago, but I really need your help on this."

"You have no idea what I went through!" she snapped angrily. "You don't know what happened to me! If it hadn't been something terrible, don't you think I'd be leading a normal life, instead of having the Agency chase me all over creation?" Rodger was silent. "You have a lot of nerve, Rodger."

"Bright Eyes," he said quietly. "People will die if you don't help me."

"Why me?" she pleaded. "Why can't you find someone else?"

"You are the only one capable of getting inside the Murgo complex."

"The IMurgo/I complex!" she threw up her arms. "Of all things, the IMurgo/I complex! I'm not going in Ithere/I!"

Rodger smiled. "You would be putting those criminal skills to good use."

"That's not funny!"

"Carmen, listen." he pleaded quietly. "They're going after all of us that are left. Lynn will die. Suhara will die. Jessica and Shirley and all of the other Seniors will die. You and I will die. Maybe even the Juniors will die." Carmen shut her eyes and turned away. "Please, Bright Eyes. You are the only one who can do it."

"I can't!" she cried. "I can't go in there! Not again!"

"Yes, you can," he told her.

"No."

"Yes, Bright Eyes. I have faith in you. You've got to help me save the others; all our old friends as well as the children that are there now." she flinched, and he continued, "I know you care for those Juniors. They don't have any defenses; they don't know any of the training we've had. How can they stand up against the Murgoes?"

She was silent for a long time. Finally she said, "For their sake, I'll do it, then." She looked him in the eyes. "And may my death be more painless than the life I have led." she said quietly.

"No one will die," Rodger answered confidently. "Not if we do it right."

"Death comes in many forms," she answered. "Sometimes death means being locked away in a dark place for the rest of your life, by the people whose lives you are trying to save."

Rodger sensed the meaning in this and said no more.


	2. Arenai Rey 1

November 26, 1968

San Francisco

The thick fog hung low over the city in the predawn hours, a damp cold blanket that wrapped close against the bay. Tiny beads of dew decorated the grasses on the northern shore; it did not snow here, and rarely did frost freeze the autumn-browned flora near the bay. The birds were silent; the animals made not a sound. From the outlook on the northern shore, even the city below seemed noiseless, wrapped in its white cloud.

The silence was broken by footsteps, walking softly up the grassy, wood-bordered hill to the outlook. Three ghostly figures floated through the thin mists, high above the thick fog in the bay below. As the figures walked higher, further from the mist, they lost their ghostly appearance and became the silhouettes of ordinary human beings. Their shoes scraped against the rocks near the top of the hill, and their breathing became more audible as they worked harder against the steep hill.

They rounded a corner, and came to a sharp cliff, which dropped off into dark nothingness far below. To the south the bright lights of the city and the bridge shone dimly, their brilliance muffled by the fog. In the darkness the figures huffed and panted, catching their breath, and one of them rewrapped a bundle it held close to its chest. One spoke softly to the other two, and they all turned to face the southeast.

From the inky blackness a dazzling ray suddenly shot forth, piercing the darkness; it suddenly and startlingly lit the world in a reddish hue, and a tiny piece of the sun's sphere peeked up over the horizon. It set the sky aflame with a deep blood red; then the burning heavens changed slowly to a brilliant orange, then transformed to a bright yellow. The heavy sphere of the sun, still a reddish-orange, rose slowly and laborously over the eastern horizon.

The sky gradually changed to blue, and the more realistic light of the daytime world shone upon the fog-hidden city. Even as the fingers of light reached out to touch it, the fog burned ever so slowly away, retreating from the city and the bay. Buildings appeared, and hills, and as the fog withdrew still more, the Bridge appeared, tall and strong over the blue waters of the ocean. Bit by bit, minute by minute, the fog dissolved away, until the city, bridge, and ocean all sparkled in the morning sunlight.

The three figures, too, were also touched by the sun's light. An African-American woman stood in the sunlight, the rays caressing her dark features and curly hair. She stood tall and straight, a woman of authority. Her clothes were also dark and suited for business, though she smiled as she looked down on the sight she had seen many times before.

An older Japanese man stood on the other side of the small cliff; past the prime of his life, but still healthy and eager to live still many more years. Wisps of white hair stood out from the black, and his lightly-lined face took in the sight with reverence. His eyes were those of a man who knew and had seen much, and was ever eager to see more.

Between these two figures stood a young woman with curled brown hair, holding a wrapped-up bundle. She had pulled back some of the wrapping and a curious baby's face looked out from between the blankets. The baby's face was framed in curls of a dark midnight black, but her eyes were a bright sky blue. The baby girl stretched out a tiny hand toward the sunlight, her eyes wide and her mouth open in wonder. Holding the baby closer to her, the mother smiled. The young woman's features were hidden in shadow from a grey fedora worn low over her face, looking like Ingrid Bergman or Bette Davis from some old 1940's detective flick.

"Well?" said the African-American woman, breaking the silence. "What do you think?"

"A breathtaking sight!" the Japanese man exclaimed. "I've seen few that are anything like it."

The other woman laughed. "It must really be spectacular if you think so, judging from all the things you've seen in your lifetime, Suhara."

He smiled warmly at her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Catherine, my friend. There are so many wonderous sights that a young woman like yourself have plenty of time to see."

"I hope the new Generation will be as exciting and interesting as the Peacekeepers were for you." Catherine replied.

The African-American woman spoke up. "Catherine, now that you have a child, I think it may be best if you take more time off."

Catherine snorted. "Giving me orders already?"

She put her hands on her hips. "That was not an order, Catherine, that was a good piece of advice. You are one of the most reckless people I know, and now that you have a baby girl I think you should be more responsible."

Suhara grinned. "You are a bit...ah...spontaneous, Catherine. I think Chief Vickman gave you a very good bit of advice."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Oh yes, Chief Lynn Vickman. I suppose I have to call you 'sir', now, don't I?"

Lynn laughed. "No, you call me 'Chief', but that's just a formality. As a matter of fact, I'd much prefer it if everyone still just called me 'Lynn'."

The baby in Catherine's arms started fussing. "I think we'd better bring her home," Catherine said. "It's time for her to eat again."

"Let me hold her." Suhara said, holding out his arms.

"Oh, no you don't!" Lynn cried. "It's my turn to hold her!"

Catherine smiled in pleasure as they argued over her baby. "I'll take Karlena back to the city and feed her," she said, "and when I'm finished, I believe it will be Lynn's turn to hold her."

"Well, I should hope so!" Lynn said as they started back down the hill. "After all, you and your husband are staying at Suhara's, and he gets to hold the baby lots more than I do.

"In any case, I hope the ceremony goes well this afternoon. We've been working on it for months, Catherine! Now that the Generation is changing, we're going to need a new name, but I've no idea what it's going to be. Of course, we never do until halfway through the Generation's time, but..." she continued talking, but the other two stopped listening. Suhara walked close to Catherine and made funny faces at Karlena each time she looked his way.

When they returned to San Francisco they stopped off at Suhara's apartment to get something for Karlena to eat. Lynn insisted on holding her while Catherine got a bottle ready. "Where is Johnathan?" Lynn asked.

"Sleeping, in the next room." Catherine replied. Grinning at the baby, she said, "Little Karlena didn't want to go to sleep, and I told Johnathan it was his night to stay up."

Karlena gurgled in reply. Suhara said, "She should grow out of that stage soon."

"Hmph!" Lynn snorted. "What do you know about children?"

He winked at her. "Much more than you know I know."

Lynn turned to Catherine. "Johnathan is coming to the ceremony, isn't he?"

"Of course!" Catherine replied as she took her baby back and gave her the bottle. Karlena grabbed at it. "He just needs his sleep because he was up all night. We're both looking forward to the ceremony." The baby sucked noisily on the bottle.

"Hungry, isn't she?" Suhara said, leaning over to look at her. Karlena turned toward him and started spluttering formula.

"Don't distract her." Catherine warned.

"Bleah." said Lynn. "If I ever wanted children, I'd adopt an older one and completely skip the baby stage. I don't know how you can sit quietly and tend a baby, Catherine, knowing how active you are. Plus you have to deal with diapers, drool, waking up in the middle of the night..."

Catherine looked at her. "Are you saying you think my having a baby was a bad choice?"

"Not at all!" Lynn assured her. "I just meant that I wouldn't want to have one. But still, I don't know if you should continue your work as much now that you have a baby."

Karlena pushed the bottle away, and Catherine got ready to burp her. "There are several people at both Acme and Interpol that have children, Lynn, and they're just as active. I can't let my personal life interfere with my work."

"True," Suhara spoke up, his face grave. "But none of them have a reputation for nearly getting themselves killed because they take unnecessary risks."

"Look," Catherine told him, "if you're still upset about the Zambezi case I'm sorry, but it wouldn't have been solved if I hadn't gone to the embassy."

"This isn't about the Zambezi case!" Lynn scolded. "You are much too forward and impulsive. Now that you have a family, you have to worry about people who will need you."

Karlena made soft gurgling sounds as she grabbed fistfuls of Catherine's brown hair. Catherine didn't seem to notice. "Nothing's going to happen to me," she declared defiantly. "My work always involves risks; the point is to overcome them."

Lynn shook her head, saying, "I hope you're right. Well, I've got some things to oversee for the ceremony, and I want to work on my speech some more. I'll see you guys later, okay?" Catherine and Suhara waved goodbye as Lynn left.

* * *

"I, Lynn Vickman, hereby accept full responsibility for all my actions as well as the actions of those who work within the Agency..." Lynn began, giving the acceptance speech she had been working on memorizing for weeks. The vast majority of a Central Chief's acceptance speech was handed down from Generation to Generation; much the same as it had been when it was first written back in the 1800's.

Catherine and Johnathan LeVrai stood with the other Acme detectives inside the grassy hollow of Golden Gate Park, listening to the speech. The day was unusually clear and sunny for this time of year, and the temperature was quite comfortable. Karlena lay asleep in Johnathan's arms, quiet for the moment.

"...through the peace and war of my country and others, failing not in my duty to the international assembly of nations..." Lynn continued as a slight breeze fluttered through the trees.

Johnathan yawned. _Interpol certainly wouldn't go through all this_.

The Peacekeepers' beginning speeches had been interesting and colorful, but nonetheless, Johnathan thought, rather drawn-out. The Central Chief of the Peacekeepers, Morgan Wellington, had presented awards to some of the more prominent members that were leaving the Agency, and after that had come a moment of silence for three detectives that had died in the line of duty.

Morgan had then introduced the new appointed Chief, Lynn Vickman. Lynn had approached the podium full of confidence. She'd breezed on past Morgan, and in her high yet powerful voice had begun her acceptance speech. And what a long, formal speech it was.

Johnathan looked over to his wife. Her eyes sparkled as she listened attentively to Lynn's oration. Lynn and Catherine were friends, he knew that, and it was perfectly natural for anyone to be interested in a friend's moment of triumph. However, when he had so much as shifted his feet after standing so long in the same position, she had immediately shushed him. He found this a bit annoying, but of course he accepted the fact that she was an Acme detective, trained in the Academy. Acme detectives did all sorts of odd things that few of the Interpol detectives could understand, like talking in a strange language all their own and arranging ceremonies like this one. Some of his Interpol friends teased him, saying "That's what comes of marrying a Friscan!"; but it had been Catherine's air of mystery and intrigue that had drawn him to her. Catherine had married him out of love, and moved away from her beloved San Francisco, but she was still from the inside out an Acme detective.

"...so say I, Central Chief Lynn Vickman of the Acme Detective Agency." Lynn finally ended, and her conclusion was greeted with cheers and applause. Catherine screeched, waking Karlena, and Johnathan jumped; Karlena began to whimper, and Catherine dashed off, saying she had to congratulate Lynn.

Johnathan was rocking Karlena and trying to get her to stop crying, when Suhara stepped over and touched her face softly. She snuffled a few times, then looked up at him and burbled. "You certainly have a way with children," Johnathan told him.

"Ahhhhhh..." said Karlena, reaching upward.

Suhara smiled at her. "Thank you," he told Johnathan. "Catherine's daughter is such a pretty baby."

"She takes after her mother," Johnathan said, but secretly he wished that Suhara would acknowledge that Karlena was his baby, too. He had nothing against the kindly, patient man, but sometimes he couldn't help feeling a little jealous toward Suhara. Both before and after their wedding Catherine had called upon Suhara a million times for advice, without consulting her husband even once. She had insisted upon staying at Suhara's place for the ceremony even after he told her he had already booked reservations at quite a pleasant hotel.

He couldn't really complain, though. He liked all of Catherine's friends, even with all their little quirks. Still, he wouldn't want to live here. It was just a little too much activity for him, and he preferred his desk job at Interpol.

* * *

November 27, 1968 San Francisco

"Can I speak to you a moment?"

Catherine looked up from the suitcase she was packing to see Suhara standing behind her. "Sure, I'm not in that big of a hurry. I don't really need to start packing until Johnathan gets back from the store. I remembered to tell him to get baby formula, didn't I?"

Suhara nodded, pouring her some tea. "Come sit down, _Arenai Rey._ I will not be able to see much of you after you leave."

Suhara and Catherine had been very close friends for many years, though they started seeing less of each other since Catherine had married Johnathan and moved to France. Catherine still looked up to Suhara as she might to a second father, and often consulted him when she needed advice. Suhara was always more than willing to give it to her.

She sat down next to him. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I have something special to give you, as a wedding gift," he told her. "It was not ready for your wedding, and I wanted to give it to you in person while you were here, rather than send it to you."

"I thought you already gave me a wedding present," she said. He had given her a Japanese brush painting.

"That was only a trifling gift," he replied. "I wish to give you something more."

He walked into his bedroom, and came out with a small box tied with a gold ribbon. He handed it to her and sat down next to her as she undid the ribbon. She opened the box, and uttered a small sound of surprise and admiration as she lifted the gold necklace and locket and held it sparkling in the light. The gold chain was of a delicate-looking, yet strong ropelike pattern. The locket itself was heart-shaped with an intricate design, decorated with scrolls and tiny landscapes etched painstakingly into the gold.

"I got it for you when I was on a case in Switzerland," he said softly.

She clasped it around her neck. "It's beautiful," she said admiringly.

He shifted slightly. "I would like you to wear it, so you do not forget your old friend."

She smiled warmly at him. "Of course I'll wear it. Every day. How could I forget you, Suhara? You've been my best friend and advisor for years!"

Suhara touched his eyes briefly. "You have grown up so fast. That is all. Now that you are married, perhaps you will not need me anymore."

Catherine put her arm around him. "Don't say that! You know I'll always need you." She grinned. "Who else is going to keep me out of trouble?"

He smiled. "You will have to look after yourself now, Catherine. I think you can manage, even though you have too much fire in your spirit. 'Spark and Fire'...Lynn gave you a good name, _Arenai Rey_."

Catherine grinned. "It fits, doesn't it?"

He laughed. Becoming serious again, he said to her, "There is one more thing that I ask of you."

"Name it."

"Give Karlena the necklace, when she is a little older. Tell her to pass it on to her daughter."

Catherine hugged him. "Of course I will."

* * *

July 16, 1969

Outside Paris, France

"No, Karlena, don't put that...Karlena! Give me that."

Karlena was at the crawling stage now, and it was all both Catherine and Johnathan could do to keep her from taking things apart and putting them in her mouth. Now a Resident Detective rather than Full-Time, Catherine was usually the one at home with the baby, though she might be gone on a case for days at a time. Karlena hated being hemmed into the playpen, and she cried until Catherine let her out. Whenever Johnathan or Catherine came home from work, one would usually find the other frazzled and resting while Karlena complained loudly in the playpen.

Catherine had set down the book she had been half-reading as she watched Karlena, in order to answer the phone. Karlena had been looking at the book with interest; and when she saw it within her reach she crawled right over and picked it up, then tried stuffing the corner of the front cover in her mouth. Not liking the taste, she decided to tear the pages. At that point Catherine walked over and took it away, then picked her up as she cradled the phone on her shoulder.

Karlena grabbed the phone cord and started jerking on it. "No, Karlena," her mother told her, sitting down at the kitchen table and pulling the cord out of her reach.

"She getting to be a handful?" Lynn asked over the phone.

"You could say that," Catherine told her as she held Karlena tightly. Karlena kept trying to squirm out of her grasp. "How are things at the Agency?"

"Our Generation now has a name," Lynn announced proudly. "We are the Seniors."

Catherine couldn't help grinning. "As opposed to the Freshmen?"

"Ha ha, very funny. Well, it's sort of like that, I guess. See, one of our San Francisco fans made some comparisons to his high school, and told us how the older members, the Seniors, know the most from experience and teach the other students. You know, what classes to take, what teachers to avoid, how to understand a concept in a class..."

"Yeah, I know. What does that have to do with us?"

"Don't you _see_?" Lynn demanded. "That's what we do. Acme's always ahead of everybody else, so a lot of the things that Interpol and Scotland Yard learn are passed on from us."

"Uh huh," Catherine said, getting a mental image of Lynn explaining high school grammar at Scotland Yard.

"And we teach each other too, the older people passing down what they've learned. And the age difference had something to do with it too...'nearly as far apart as a senior in high school and a senior citizen'. Different ages, different countries, different languages, different backgrounds. But we're all Seniors."

"It's still kind of an odd name," Catherine commented.

Lynn snorted. "You've just been away from the Agency too long, _Arenai Rey_."

Catherine sighed. "Can't argue with that. What else have I missed?"

They talked for a few minutes more, and then Lynn said that she had to go. Catherine hung up the phone, then absently walked over to Karlena's crib and put her in. Karlena fussed for a while, then fell asleep.

"I still think 'Seniors' is a strange name," she said aloud to the baby, as if Karlena would answer. "But I suppose I'm one of them."

Certainly doesn't seem that way, she thought to herself. I'm missing out on all the fun stuff that goes with being part of a Generation.

"Suhara wasn't kidding when he said I have a lot of fire in my spirit," she told the baby wistfully, beginning to daydream. "I like constant action. I like to feel adrenaline running through my body. I like chases through city streets, stretching myself to my limits, and tracking down dangerous criminals." She snapped out of her trance, and said to Karlena with a smile, "In fact, I like it so much that Lynn says if I don't knock it off, you'll grow up to be the same way."

I've got responsibilities to take care of, she thought as she watched her daugher in the crib. Catherine valued her daughter above all else, but after talking to Lynn she remembered her unfettered, earlier life and felt stifled. She toyed with the idea of getting Johnathan to move back to San Francisco, but she knew that wouldn't solve anything. She still had a baby to take care of.

Catherine watched Karlena as she slept. She sat down at the bedside, and stroked Karlena's soft dark curls. Karlena breathed softly as she slept peacefully, sighing only once in her sleep. As Catherine watched her, she knew she couldn't leave Karlena and Johnathan. She couldn't leave these people who cared for her and needed her. IPerhaps,/I Catherine thought as she rose, Iperhaps when Karlena is grown up will I go back to San Francisco; but not before./I She smiled to herself as a thought occurred to her. Maybe Karlena will follow in my footsteps, and become a Senior as well.

* * *

June 17, 1971

Outside Paris, France

At three years old, Karlena was already interested in learning to read. Her mother or father would open one of her children's books and read to her, and Karlena would point to the words and demand to know which ones they were. She knew her ABC, and her parents at first considered putting her in school early, even though she still confused the words of English and French, the two languages spoken by her parents. Karlena was still very active, and she liked running and doing somersaults in the LeVrai yard near the garden. She was constantly on the go.

One day Catherine was baking cookies. Karlena loved cookies, and she watched impatiently as her mother mixed the batter, scooped the dough onto the cookie sheet, and put them in the oven. She hung around the kitchen until they were finished, and watched intently as her mother put the cookies on the countertop to cool off. "Don't touch, Karlena," her mother said. "They're hot." Catherine walked out of the kitchen and left Karlena looking longingly at the cookies. Not being able to reach the cookies irritated Karlena. She could see them and she could smell them, but she couldn't reach them, and once they cooled her mother would put them away in the cookie jar for later. Karlena wanted them _now._

Catherine heard a chair scraping against the floor of the kitchen. She was busy reading a book and paid little attention. It finally occurred to her that Karlena might be up to something, and when Karlena walked quickly past with something in her hands, Catherine went into the kitchen to see what she had been doing.

As she walked into the kitchen, she saw a chair had been pushed up against the countertop. She looked at the cookies and counted them; she had made two dozen, and six of them were missing.

"Why, you little thief!" Catherine exclaimed as she walked briskly to Karlena's bedroom. Karlena was sitting on the floor, and her face and hands were covered with chocolate and cookie crumbs. Karlena spread her hands in a gesture of innocence.

"No cookies," she told Catherine.

"Really? Then where did all that chocolate come from?" Catherine demanded, pointing to her hands and face. "Mommy's a detective. You can't fool her." Karlena wasn't really sure what a detective was, but she knew that it had something to do with her mother being able to figure out certain things (like whether she had brushed her teeth or just run the brush under the water) that Johnathan couldn't figure out. Karlena enjoyed trying to fool her mother; it was a kind of game to her, but her mother almost always won.

Catherine didn't punish Karlena for stealing the cookies, and at first Karlena was puzzled; but when she started getting a stomachache she figured it out. When Karlena complained of a sore stomach Catherine just gave her a short lecture on not taking things that didn't belong to her, and for a long time after Karlena did not touch any more cookies.

* * *

March 10, 1973

Outside Paris, France

"You have to come to Headquarters now, Catherine! We've got an emergency on our hands!"

Catherine rolled her eyes as she cradled the phone on her shoulder; everything was an emergency to Lynn. "What's the problem?" she asked.

"I can't tell you on the phone. This is serious stuff."

Catherine sighed. "Look, Karlena's at school, and when she comes back I have to take her to a doctor's appointment. I'll book the first flight to San Francisco tomorrow."

"It can't wait, Catherine. We're making our plan of action tomorrow. If you hop on a plane in the next two hours and the flight isn't delayed, you might just make it."

"What! Lynn, why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

"I couldn't! It came up too suddenly. I'm gathering together all the people I can, but most can't come; they're either already on a case or on the other side of the planet. They can't get here in time. As it is, you're only the third person who can come, and I didn't want to have to call you in because..."

"Because what?" Catherine demanded. "Because what?"

A long silence. Then, "Catherine, it's _that_ guy."

"What guy? I've run across a couple hundred guys in my life, Lynn."

"The _desalamo_. The one from the Zambezi case."

"The Zambezi case? Are you sure?" Catherine inquired, the excitement rising in her voice.

"Yes. Are you going to catch a flight or not?"

"I'm coming. Bye," she said, and hung up.

She called up Johnathan and told him that she had to go on emergency leave; this sort of thing happened every once in a while, so he simply assured her that he would take care of Karlena while she was gone. After a few words of goodbye she hung up, then dashed to the bedroom. She threw a few things in her travel bag, grabbed her coat, and raced to the airport in her car.

At the flight desk, she flashed her ID and breathlessly inquired if any flights had open seats for San Francisco, or at least New York. The lady at the desk gave her a last-minute ticket and told her there was a flight departing for New York in ten minutes, and if she ran she could catch it. Catherine bolted down the hallways of the Orly airport and arrived at the gate just as the flight attendant was about to close the door. Catherine flashed her ID again, shoved the ticket into the startled attendant's hands, and dashed down the ramp.

When she finally sat down and had time to collect her thoughts, she hoped that Lynn hadn't dragged her out of the house for one of her famous wild goose chases. Lynn had a habit of calling detectives in on emergency leave for something that turned out to be quite trivial. However, the more she thought about it, the more Catherine realized that she was probably going to get in on some of the excitement she was missing. She pushed her seat back, accepted the champagne offered to her, and thanked good luck for giving her a first-class seat.

She slept throughout the entire flight. Catherine, like most Acme detectives who had mastered Adrenaline Control, had the ability to adjust her body to compete with jet-lag and the stress of travel. She had once been exceptional at it, but she was out of practice and therefore just a little bleary when she stepped off the flight in New York. She found that she had just missed a plane departing for San Francisco, but another would be leaving in two hours; so she decided to have a halfway decent meal in a restaurant. Catherine didn't much care for airplane food.

While she was sitting at her table, she noticed a wiry-looking, skinny man staring at her, who wore horn-rimmed glasses and had flecks of gray in his iron-black hair. He wore a black suit that was in a painfully neat state, with not a wrinkle in it. His hair was slicked back, and when she looked up, he gave her an oily smile.

She did not return the smile, but resumed eating. Something about the man gave her the creeps. It wasn't really his appearance; he could be considered handsome, but he had a sinister aura about him, that hung about him like smoke. Acme detectives were trained to be able to sense such things. She remembered a passage from a mystery novel she had once read, about a serial killer who charmed and then murdered young women: There was the smell of the blood on his hands, old blood that he could never wash away, like that on the hands of Lady Macbeth in the darkness of the night.

Much to her contempt, he walked over to her table. "Is anyone sitting here?" he inquired in a low, smooth voice, motioning to the other chair.

"Nobody at the moment," she muttered as she continued to eat.

"I apologize for staring at you," he told her in a slight English accent, "but I was wondering if I might draw you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I would like to draw you. On paper," he explained. "I am an aspiring artist, and I must say that your face is unusually pretty. And with that coat and hat, you look like the lady from _Casablanca_. A very pretty young lady."

Any other woman would have been flattered, but Catherine was not impressed. "I'm not a young lady; I'm married. I'm not going to pay you to draw me."

The man looked hurt. "Do I look like a street hawker? I am an aspiring artist. I come to the airport, where there are many different types of people. Some are pretty, or funny-looking, or ugly. I draw men, women, and children. I draw couples, families..."

"All right. Fine. You can draw me, if you want."

He smiled. Catherine turned her attention back to her food and tried not to grimace. He took out a pad and some charcoals, and set to work. She continued to eat, but he did not ask her to stand still or look at him. She wondered what this picture of her would look like.

"Finished," he said, and presented it to her. It was a startling likeness; he had copied perfectly the way her hair curled over her shoulders, the angle of her fedora over her face, and the shape of her nose, mouth, and eyes. Her eyes widened slightly, and he grinned in satisfaction.

"It's quite good," she said, though she felt that it was much better than good.

"Perhaps you would like me to do another? A copy to take home?"

Catherine looked at her watch. "No, thanks," she said regrettably. "I have a plane to catch."

He nodded, and put the portrait in a folder. "Have a good flight."

Catherine got up and put her travel bag over her shoulder, then left for the terminal. After a few minutes, the flight was called, and Catherine stepped onto the plane bound for San Francisco.

The man watched her go, and took note of the plane's destination. As the plane taxied and took off, he walked down another hallway to a different restaurant. There he sat down at a table in the corner and looked at his watch. Ten minutes later a tall, thin man entered the restaurant. His hair was black as soot and gave the impression of having the same gritty texture. He wore a gray overcoat that was clean but had seen much wear. His shoes were dark and shiny, his pants black. His face was pitted with minuscule holes, and it scowled, giving it a black look, and his rough mustache jutted from his lip. He had a stiff leg, and he leaned upon a gold round-headed cane.

He sat at the corner table, opposite the first man. "Well?"

"There was a woman in the airport that seemed to fit you description, sir. She was sitting at a table in one of the other restaurants, and she left for a flight to San Francisco just a few minutes ago."

"Did you get her portrait?" the second man growled. His voice had a grinding quality to it.

The first man nodded, and brought it out.

The second man growled again, and nodded at the drawing. "This is her. The eyes, the face...everything is the same. And the peculiar angle with which she wears that hat, over one eye. This is Catherine LeVrai." He handed the picture back to the first man. "Go back with the others, Jenner. We'll wait for the Friscans to make the first move."

"Are you sure this is wise, sir?" Jenner asked. "This Catherine woman seems rather capable, sure of herself. From what I've heard she's quite good. Perhaps we should take care of her first..."

The scowling man shook his head. "Be patient, Jenner. Revenge is sweeter if you wait."

* * *

July 7, 1973

San Francisco

"Uh huh," Catherine said, almost meditatively, as she looked through the microscope in Crimelab. "Very, very interesting. I think you're right about this bullet coming from a different gun."

"Well, I should hope so," Lin-Mei muttered, her hands jammed in her white lab coat. "I'm the ballistics expert, after all."

"That raises a few questions, doesn't it?" Catherine said, ignoring her and turning to Suhara. "Two guns where we thought there was one. Who's hiding the other one?"

Suhara sighed, and avoided her eyes. Lines of age were beginning to show on his face, and he sat down wearily at the table. "It probably means that we have been following another wrong lead, Catherine. That makes six in the past four months."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Catherine said cheerily. "We'll just look over those files again. That's where we missed the Bangkok connection, after all."

Lin-Mei turned to Catherine. "Would the esteemed detective like to give me back my microscope?"

"Oh, of course. Sorry," Catherine told her, standing up. "Thanks for the info. We'll probably be in again soon, okay? Reserve a scope for us."

As Catherine trotted quickly down the hall, Suhara struggled to keep up. "Catherine," he panted, "would you please stop for a moment?"

She turned and flashed a smile. "Feeling old?"

He managed a half-smile as he caught up to her. "Perhaps. But I think you should take this case more slowly."

Puzzled, Catherine asked, "What do you mean? I'm not taking this case any more quickly than I usually do." She narrowed her eyes as something occurred to her. "You don't think I'm trying to settle a vendetta with this case, are you? That's the same lecture I got from Lynn. Muerganne hasn't affected me personally in any way..."

"No, Catherine, I know that," he answered, shaking his head. "Lynn is just worried about you, that is all. You know that."

"She worries too much. Remember when I picked a fight with that druglord in Brazil? She thought I was going to go on the warpath, and in six days I'd forgotten his name. Just because Muerganne's thumbed his nose at me for the past year doesn't mean I'm out for revenge. I'm not dumb, Suhara. Lynn's treating me like a hotheaded Trainee."

"I know that, Catherine," Suhara told her softly. "But you should see yourself. You have been eating, sleeping, and breathing this case for four months."

"It's a good case!" Catherine protested. "I can follow it, it keeps moving, it's challenging but not tedious. I haven't got a case like this since..." Her voice dropped, and she spoke more to herself than to him. "Well, since I left San Francisco."

Suhara put a hand on her shoulder. "You don't regret leaving, do you?" he asked. "Don't you care for Johnathan and Karlena?"

"Of course I do!" Catherine shouted suddenly. "They mean everything to me, you know that! But can't I work as well?" She stepped back, spreading her arms, her loud voice prompting several other detectives to turn and stare. "Can't I do my job without everyone breathing down my neck? Can't I enjoy working a case? Is it so wrong for me to love my work as well?"

Suhara looked away, and she could see the hurt in his eyes.

"Suhara, I'm sorry, I'm just frustrated..."

He looked up. "Catherine, we worry about you."

Catherine bit her lip, unsure of what to do, unsure of what she'd done. "Suhara, please, just a few more weeks. I'm sure we can finish it in a few weeks. Just a little more time, all right?"

Suhara shook his head, looking away again. "Catherine...I am not sure what to say to you..."

Catherine drew in her breath, anger flaring inside her, prepared to make sure she got it through everyone's head that she had a right to work too, that she could do a perfectly fine job of caring for her family as well, that everyone should stop nagging her about it as if she were some half-trained fool.

Out of the corner of her eye, Catherine saw Lynn turn a hall corner, glance around, and walk up to them. "Catherine, I want to see you in my office."

Catherine turned on her, a million angry words coming to mind.

Lynn caught her rage. "Don't you dare shout at me here, detective. If you have something to say you can do it in my office. Are you coming or not?"

Catherine nodded and followed, her ire still strong within her. Suhara watched them as they left, an empty feeling building inside him.

"Lynn, I can't believe you're doing this to me!"

"I'm sorry, Catherine. But that is the report I received and I have seen fit to take action."

"It was just meant to scare me, Lynn. That's all. You know we're all trained not to get intimidated by that sort of thing!"

"Aren't you being a little blase , Catherine?" Lynn asked pointedly from behind her desk. "Do people go around threatening to kill you so often that it bores you or something?"

Catherine pretended not to hear her. "I can't believe you're taking me off the case! After all I've done? I know more about it than anyone else!"

"I know, Catherine. But I'm not going to let you put your life in danger just for the sake of a case that can be solved by someone else."

Throwing up her hands in exasperation, Catherine cried, "Four months of going back and forth for this case! And for what?" She put her hands down on Lynn's desk and leaned forward. "Put me out there, please, Lynn. I know the guy's MO, I know where he's going, I know what he's doing, I know ten minutes before if he's going to sneeze or not. I can get this thing wrapped up in a matter of weeks."

"IDetective LeVrai/I!" Lynn suddenly shouted, slamming her fist on the desk. "Listen to yourself! Are you aware of what you're trying to do? Are you aware of what happens if something goes wrong, to you, to your Ifamily/I? I will not have my detectives throwing their lives away on a whim! Just what are you trying to prove?"

"With all due respect, Chief, it was an empty threat. We've all had some nut try to scare us with promises of revenge."

Lynn sighed and shook her head. "Then you must be the only one that doesn't see what you're doing. Suhara's worried sick about you, he thinks you're going to go off the deep end with this fanatical chase. And your husband called me the other day, and went so far as to ask me to try to persuade you to drop the case."

Catherine opened her mouth for another tirade, then stopped short with wide eyes. "He did what?"

"He told me also that your daughter has been acting strangely for the past month, refusing to go to school, asking when you'll be home. Or perhaps you've been too busy to notice," Lynn added sharply.

Catherine just stared at her for a few minutes, mouth open, then blinked. "I...all right then, I'm off the case. If that's all right with you," she added absently, her words falling over each other as they came out.

Lynn pressed her hand to her forehead. "Yes, Catherine. That's just fine with me. That's what I've been trying to convince you for the past fifteen minutes." She picked up some paperwork. "Suhara and Kruchov will pick up where you left off. You are instructed to go back to France until this case is closed."

"But..."

"But what?"

Catherine looked uneasy. "Can't I at least work under Consultant status on the case?"

Lynn looked at her like she might a child who was pestering her about an ice cream. "No, Catherine. You know it's too dangerous for you to be involved in any way. Just hand them your casebook on your way out, and they'll work from your notes."

"But there are things I know that can't be put into notes."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. I still say that Catherine LeVrai will not actively pursue Muerganne Giovanni."

"But Lynn, just let me..."

"That's an order, Catherine! Now get out of my office!"

August 25, 1973 Outside Paris, France

"I Ihave/I tried talking to her, Johnathan," Catherine assured her husband. "But she...she doesn't want to talk to me. She just keeps receding into herself, whenever I bring the subject up."

Johnathan, sitting on the couch next to her, looked down at his hands. "I think she's angry with you, Catherine, for not being home."

"Johnathan, I've tried to explain to her..."

"Karlena has a right to be angry, Catherine. She doesn't understand all your connections with the Agency. All she knows is that she feels her mother has been taken from her."

Catherine sighed, and ran her hands through her hair. "I don't know how to handle this, Johnathan. I catch her picking a fight with some of her friends, and when I confront her she talks back to me. She's never acted like this before. Now she's sulking in her room."

"She needs you, Catherine. That's why she's been acting that way. She wants you back. She wants you to talk to her."

"It sure doesn't seem that way. Can't you talk to her about it? I don't know if I can even get her to speak to me."

Johnathan put his arm around her. "You can do it, Catherine. You're the one she needs right now."

Catherine sighed again, lifting herself slowly off the couch. She went upstairs, turning back once to look at Johnathan, who simply nodded her on. Coming to Karlena's room, she knocked on her door.

"Go away!" Karlena shouted from within.

"Can't I come in, just for a minute?" Catherine asked.

She got no answer, so she gently opened the door and walked in. Karlena was seated on the bed, still sulking. Catherine sat down next to her. "All right, Icherie/I. What happened? Why did you say those mean things to Marie and Henri?"

Karlena's arms were folded, her face tight. "They tried to say they were better than I was. But I'm smarter than they are, and I can beat them at soccer, and I told them that, but they wouldn't listen..."

"Why did they say they were better than you?"

Karlena avoided Catherine's eyes.

"Come now, Karlena." Catherine put her hand on Karlena's black locks.

Karlena jumped up away from her. "They said that they had a better mom and dad than I did, because their dads get paid more than mine and their moms aren't gone all the time!" Karlena glared at her mother. "But I don't care. I don't need them. I don't need you! You're never home anyway!"

Catherine felt a sudden stab of pain. "Oh, Karlena, you don't mean that."

"Yes I do! You're always gone to be with your friends in America. I don't see why, friends are nothing but trouble anyway. They want to play stupid games, and giggle a lot, and tell dumb jokes..."

"Karlena, I have to work. And friends are important. When your friends get older they'll want to do more grown-up things."

Karlena wasn't listening. "And I can't talk to them, not about anything serious. They just laugh and giggle a lot."

"We talk," Catherine offered.

"When you're home," Karlena shot back. "Nobody else wants to talk to me about the things I see on the news, or what America is like, or anything. They just sing silly songs and play stupid games, and..." Karlena started to sniffle. "And when I want to talk to you, you're never home, and nobody else understands me...You're here now, but what do I do when you leave me again?" She broke down crying.

Catherine took Karlena into her arms. "IAh, cherie, je regrette./I You know I love you, don't you? I wish I could be here with you more..." IHow sad it is, Catherine thought to herself. When I'm home I wish I could be with Suhara and Lynn more, when I'm away I wish I could be with Karlena and Johnathan more. Catch-22/I. Catherine held her daughter close and wondered if there was anything she could possibly give to Karlena to help ease her absence in her daughter's life.

Catherine sat up for a moment and felt Karlena take hold of her blouse, perhaps fearing that Catherine would leave her again. But Catherine merely ran her hands beneath her collar and unfastened the gold necklace and intricately carved locket she always wore. Handing it to Karlena, she said, "Here, I want you to have this. It's so you'll always have a small piece of me, even when I'm gone."

Karlena took her mother's necklace with reverence; the necklace had always been as much a part of Catherine as her eyes, or her voice. She opened it, and inside was a picture of Catherine and a picture of Karlena taken just a few days ago.

"It's pretty," Karlena finally said, searching for some grown-up word that could fully describe the beauty of the necklace.

"Yes, and very special," Catherine told her. "An old friend of mine gave it to me, before you were born. He said that I should pass it on to my oldest daughter." She put her arms around Karlena. "You think you can take care of it, like a big girl? Are you responsible enough to take care of my necklace?"

"Yes, Ma," Karlena said, putting it around her neck.

"It's very important that you do," Catherine said, touching the heart-shaped locket. "It contains your life's importance."

Karlena looked down at it curiously, as if it were a magic talisman that she held in her hands.

"Mother and daughter," Catherine pointed to the pictures. "Father and son, friend and friend..." she said, half to herself. "The people that touch your life. Nothing is more important than the bonds between people. I wore it close to my heart, and now you wear it close to yours. Do you understand?"

Karlena nodded uncertainly.

"It means you can be the smartest person in the world, or have the most money, but none of it matters if you have no one to talk to or to guide you. Even if you sail the seven seas and know a country better than its natives, you're still lost if you're alone. It's to remind you how important friends and family are in your life. How important you are to me." Catherine gave Karlena a brief squeeze. "Now you run along and play."

Karlena went out wearing the necklace, and did not take it off the rest of that day. It stayed on the next day, and the next day, and the next, always tucked away beneath her clothes and next to her heart.

September 2, 1973 Outside Paris, France

enner looked around uneasily as he drove the rental car down the main road. "I still think this is a little too forward, sir. And if you'll pardon me for saying this, I don't think that making a threat on LeVrai's life was one of your most brilliant moments, either. You do realize that if we do anything to her, the rest of the Friscans will be upon us like a maddened army."

"That's why we're doing this Ihere/I," Muerganne growled, looking out the window at the wispy clouds enshrouding the afternoon sun. "French cops aren't worth their cheese. And since LeVrai lives an ocean and a continent away from the Agency, it'll take longer for the Friscans to respond than if we tried to confront her while she's on a case. And the threat on her life did exactly what I wanted: Chief Frisco took her off the case, and sent her back to France-away from the safety of the Agency."

"It won't take them that long to find us, once the deed's done," Jenner murmured. "And even if we do get away from the scene, what's to keep them from following us?"

Muerganne snorted angrily. "I'm not so stupid as that. The Friscans may suspect, but they'll never have enough evidence to prove anything. They never have in the past," he added with a malignant smile.

"This is the house," Jenner said suddenly, pointing it out.

Muerganne nodded slowly, patiently. "Go in the side road. We'll come around to the back of the house."

Jenner pulled into the gravel drive and cast an anxious look toward the two houses bordering it. Pulling into a little alcove behind some tall bushes, he stopped the car and stepped out.

"I don't see anyone," he said, after making a quick check on the windows and doors of the two houses next to the road. The countryside was unusually quiet, with only the high-pitched sound of cicadas occasionally piercing the silence.

Muerganne stepped out of the car, the soles of his shoes grinding on the gravel. He took a quick, unconcerned look round as well, then proceeded nonchalantly toward Catherine's house, as if he were merely paying an old friend a visit. As he stepped stiffly onto the patio, his cane clicked faintly onto the stone. Jenner followed, casting quick glances behind him. As Muerganne came to the doorstep, he took hold of something in his coat pocket, then rapped on the door.

"IUn moment, s'il vous pla t/I," came a young man's voice. Muerganne took his hand out of his pocket and swallowed a curse. He actually managed an oily smile as not Catherine, but her blond bespectacled husband, came to the door.

"Excuse me, but I'm a friend of Catherine's," Muerganne told him as genially as he could. "Is she here?"

"Not at the moment," Johnathan said, looking uneasily at the strange man and his companion. Johnathan often had trouble keeping Catherine's companions straight, but he knew she had described this man before, and not as a friend. "She'll be back later. Would you like me to tell her you called? Whom should I tell her was here?"

"Is it all right if we wait for her? We've come a long way," Muerganne asked, hoping Johnathan was fool enough to let him inside.

No such luck. "She won't be back for quite a while. I can give you the name of a nice little hotel not far from here, and when she gets back I can tell her to meet you there." Johnathan didn't take his eyes off Muerganne, and fervently hoped that the two would leave so that he could call the police.

"All right," Muerganne agreed, playing along. "What's the name of the hotel?"

"ILe Pigeon Blanc/I," Johnathan told him. "It's just up the road."

"Up the road, where?" Muerganne asked, feigning confusion and looking back over his shoulder, with an almost unnoticeable nod toward Jenner. "We came from that direction, and didn't see it."

Johnathan looked undecided for a moment, then shifted his gaze from Muerganne to the road as he pointed west. "It's just up that road a few miles..."

Quick as lightning Jenner pounced on Johnathan, throwing him back inside the house. Had he been alert, Johnathan would have met the charge; but he fell to the ground with the wind knocked out of him, and looked up to see Muerganne standing over him with a small gun pointed at him.

"Now, I'm only going to ask this once," Muerganne growled menacingly. "Where is Catherine LeVrai?"

"People are going to think we're tourists," Catherine snickered as she took a quick look round the small Parisian cafe. "I think that last outburst echoed all the way to the Place de la Republique."

Karlena tried to stifle her giggles. She'd asked Catherine if people really did shoot soda pop out of their nose if they laughed too hard, and Catherine had given her a demonstration. "Why is it bad to be a tourist?" she finally asked.

"Oh, it's not, really. I'm using the San Francisco definition-someone who's not too bright. But really, whenever you leave your home region, unless you're on business or something you're technically a tourist. The trick is not to act like one."

"Can you do that?"

"Not act like a tourist? Sure, all of us can. I'll teach you how," Catherine said, ruffling Karlena's hair. "We'll travel the world, you and I. Rome, Tokyo, New York."

"Italy, Japan, United States."

Catherine laughed. "You know your geography, eh? Well, no matter what they tell you in school, memorizing cities won't get you anywhere." She paid the waiter, who looked relieved that they were leaving. Catherine got up and took Karlena by the hand, and they strolled leisurely down the street. "You stick with me. I'll hook you up with my friends at work, they'll make a Senior out of you." Catherine made broad sweeping gestures with her free hand. "We'll take you to places you'd never dreamed of and show you the ways of a hundred different cultures. I'll show you how to salsa, to know the music of the shamisen, to read the inscriptions of civilizations dead and gone. We'll have lots of time together." IPlenty to make up for lost time.../I

"Will I meet your friends?" Karlena asked eagerly.

"My friends? Of course. They've already met you once, they'd love to see you again."

Karlena looked at her mother with wide eyes. "I've met them before?"

Laughing, Catherine told her, "Yes, but you were only a little baby!" Growing serious, she said, more to herself than Karlena, "Good heavens, they haven't seen you since. Lynn and Suhara kept asking for pictures of you, and I kept forgetting them. Of course, that's my own fault, keeping home and work so separate...well, it doesn't matter," she said, speaking to Karlena once more, "because we'll see them soon enough."

"We will?" Karlena asked eagerly.

"Well, sure, in a few years. Sooner than that, if I can drag Suhara out here. Lynn's probably too busy being Chief, but I bet Suhara's just been waiting for me to ask him to visit. He'd never come over himself, he's too overpolite and would think he was inviting himself over..."

"Lynn and Su...hala?"

Catherine looked at her, astonished. "Haven't I told you their names before?"

Karlena shook her head.

Catherine shut her mouth for a few minutes. "Huh," she finally said, "I was sure I had. Well, it doesn't matter. I'll tell you all about them when we get home, all right?"

Karlena nodded enthusiastically.

"Good! Now, where did I park the car?" Catherine asked, stopping and taking a good look round.

"That way," Karlena said, pointing back the way they came.

Catherine stared, then laughed. "Where would I be without you?" she asked, giving Karlena a brief squeeze. "Hopelessly lost and halfway to England, that's where."

A light rain was falling in the evening haze. The car headlights cast eerie shadows along the roadside, and the wipers, like a hypnotist's watch, flicked incessantly across the windshield. Karlena had been watching the countryside pass by her window, but she looked up when she heard Catherine take a sharp intake of breath.

"What on earth..." Catherine said.

There were police cars all over the yard. Some had pulled into the small driveway, but others had parked onto the grass. Police officers in raincoats stood around the yard and in the open doorway, illuminated by their own cars' lights. As Catherine pulled over to the side of the road, one of the officers stepped toward her car.

"Stay here, Karlena," Catherine said. "I'm going to find out what's going on. Must've been a break-in," she muttered as she shut the car door and walked toward the house.

Karlena observed through the windshield as her mother stepped into the police cars' light. She watched, hypnotized by the Iswish-swish/I of the wipers, as Catherine spoke to the officer. Karlena could hear no words, but she saw her mother gesture toward the house and cock her head in a questioning way. The officer, whose shoulders seemed bowed by the weight of the news he had to bear, answered her patiently. Karlena saw Catherine stiffen, then suddenly run toward the house. Several officers caught her and restrained her as she tried to get to the door. Somehow, even though she could hear nothing but the drumming of the rain and the swish of the wipers, Karlena knew that her mother was screaming.

Fearful yet entranced, Karlena continued to watch as Catherine dug a card out of her coat and shoved it in one of the officers' faces. He shook his head, hand up, denying her entrance to the house. Catherine began making wild gesticulations, pointing to herself and the house, and waving her hands the whole time. The police continued to shake their heads, and one pointed back toward the city. She shouted in their faces, then turned on her heel and stalked back to the car.

"Ma, what's wrong?" Karlena demanded as Catherine stepped back into the car.

Catherine didn't answer. She revved up the car, put it in gear, and started driving back the way they came. Frightened, Karlena gripped the seat as Catherine skidded on the road. The rain drove hard against the windshield and the car kicked up black waves as it crashed through puddles. They sped back toward the city, and stopped at a police building, its lights hazy in the downpour. Catherine jumped out of the car and dragged Karlena into the building with her, and Karlena looked up in the dim light to see Catherine's face tight, pale as death. Karlena stood mute as Catherine demanded use of a phone, flashing the card again. Grabbing the receiver and dialing, she then waited a few agonizing moments, muttering under her breath and pacing the floor. Her head came up, and she answered someone on the other end of the line. She started speaking rapidly in a language that Karlena did not know; and it was only then did Catherine begin to cry.

Lynn froze for a second, gripping the phone in her hands, and then she actually stood up. "IWhat/I did you say?" she demanded in Donnekahshaie.

Suhara and Kruchov, seated across from her desk, jerked their heads up and stared at her.

"Are you sure?" Lynn demanded. She paused for a moment, listening, then sank down into her chair. "IMarli Dia/I."

"What is happening?" Kruchov hissed.

Lynn ignored him. She seemed transfixed somehow, staring silently at something behind him, then suddenly snapped out of her trance. "Catherine, listen, you've got to get out of there. You're not safe there. He was probably looking for Iyou/I."

Suhara and Kruchov exchanged anxious glances.

"Yes, I'm sure it was Ihim/I. Who else would have any motive? Listen, Catherine, you need to get to the Agency as fast as you can. He might still be looking for you. What? Yes, get on a flight to San Francisco. We'll have someone meet you at the airport. Call us if you run into any problems, all right? I'm going to send in someone from Special Investigations." Lynn hung up the phone and put her head in her hands.

"Lynn," Suhara asked fearfully, rising from his seat and putting his hand on her shoulder. "What has happened?"

Lynn lifted her head, and looked at him as if she'd seen death incarnate. When she opened her mouth, the words came through slowly, thickly.

"Someone has murdered Johnathan LeVrai."

September 3, 1973 New York City 12:34 PM

"What do you mean, there aren't any flights available for San Francisco?"

The airline attendant adjusted his glasses nervously, looking away from the wrathful gaze of the woman in front of him. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but all the flights to San Francisco are booked. The Labor Day rush, you know..."

She waved her hand impatiently, her other hand clutching that of a frightened-looking five-year-old girl. Together, weather-stained and disheveled, they looked like refugees blown in by a hurricane. "I know, I know, so you've told me ten times. Look, can I get on a flight to someplace close by? What about Sacramento?"

The attendant consulted his computer. "No flights to Sacramento."

"What about on another airline?"

He clicked the keys. "No, ma'am."

"What about L.A.? Reno? Someplace in Oregon?"

"No, ma'am."

"Las Vegas? Seattle? San Diego?"

He continued to click at his keyboard. Finally, he said, "There's a flight leaving for Seattle in three hours. Would you like me to..."

"Yes, please," the woman told him shortly. "Put us on the flight."

He did so, rather hastily. "The flight will be departing from Gate 39."

"Good," the woman told him, and stalked off with her daughter in tow.


End file.
